


sad in the happy room

by Jd_lyn



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood, Daryl has cancer, Desus - Freeform, How Do I Tag, M/M, Main Character Death, Sad with a Hopeful Ending, Sad with a Sad Ending, Vomiting, but i was going for something extremely heartbreaking and painful, did it work?, i dont actually know what happens when someone is actively dying of cancer, i lied there is no hopeful ending, is this considered angst?, its really just short and sad thats it, paul is infinitely sad about it, really though i would be too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 07:19:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13476483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jd_lyn/pseuds/Jd_lyn
Summary: Daryl gets a phone call and Paul cries and they lie to each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Desus fic I'm posting, and I'm just gonna throw it out there that it's 3:17 am and I wrote this in one sitting, so please forgive me when you get to the end to realize it's horrible.  
> Also please check the tags before reading, I do realize this isn't a topic to take lightly.

Daryl knew it wasn’t gone. The doctor was too cheery and happy; it clashed heavily with the air that hung thick in the sterile room. She wouldn’t show him the scan results, all of his other doctors did.

He knew it was bad. His chest pains were getting worse, coughing more. He was starting to have issues remembering things too, and doing simple things like sleeping at night or standing still, evening walking occasionally he would stumble, like his feet were blocks of cement.

Paul just smiled sadly at him. Daryl figured he knew too. There was nothing they could do at this point.

The phone call was no big surprise. Daryl saw the number, he didn’t have it saved, but he didn’t need to.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Daryl Dixon?” The voice bounced around in his head a few times, like his skull was empty. A short sigh left his chapped lips.

“Yeah,” His eyes drifted to the bay window, overlooking the yard that faded into woods. Paul fell in love with all the natural light it brought to the kitchen. He said it made the kitchen a ‘happy room’.

“Hi, this is Mary from the Southeastern Regional Medical Center calling on behalf of your MRI scan results.” She paused, or maybe Daryl just tuned her out, he wasn’t sure. Light footsteps paused on the edge of the living room, and he didn’t even have to look to know that Paul had a hand by his mouth, chewing on his lip.

"The scan shows that not all of the cancer in your lungs was killed with the chemo and radiation, and at the rate it grew back since your final appointment, it has already spread to both your liver and brain." He was expecting the worse, and yet here it was, and a heavy sigh still left his lips and his shoulders dropped. 

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Dixon, but at this point you can't do any more chemo or radiation, and it's too wide spread to attempt to surgically remove it. Doctor Frank says you only have a few months left. I'm sorry." 

"Okay." He closed his eyes, letting it sink in. They wouldn't be able to adopt a kid like Paul wanted, or a dog. He would never have the time to take his boyfriend on a nice vacation. He couldn't propose. "Thank you."

As soon as the line went dead, Paul's arms wrapped around his thinning frame.

"Paul," it'll be okay. I'll be fine. Daryl wanted to dry all the tears off his boyfriends face, feed him lines of lies to make him feel better. All he could manage was to return the gesture, holding him close while he still could. He took a deep breath, dropping his forehead to Paul's shoulder. "Doctor gave me a few months."

And just like that, Paul's world was falling apart. He knew it was going to be bad, Daryl was in more and more pain each day, coughing up rust colored spit every once in a while, starting to trip over nothing, missing the counter when he'd try and set down a glass of water, or his phone or the keys. So he held into his dying boyfriend, crying into his stained sweater that was ripped at the cuffs of the sleeves. Standing in the sunlight of his happy room.

It started with chest pains and coughing, so Paul made Daryl see a doctor since the older had mentioned smoking his first cigarette at 9 years old. He figured it would be heart problems or something worse, and they were hit with the "something worse". They thought that was bad, but there was a "worse than that", and somehow they were hit with that card, too. 

A couple months. How do you live knowing you've only got a handful of weeks left, an expiration date on the mornings Daryl could wake up to seeing Paul's face. Not to mention the hospital bills he would leave the younger man with, and an empty house with the ghost of a happy relationship. 

Daryl wasn't sure what was worse; dying, or leaving Paul.

"It'll be okay," Daryl was shocked to hear Paul starting in with the lies, pulling away slightly. "It'll be okay, we'll figure it all out. Don't worry, okay?" His eyes were puffy and his face was red, but it tugged at Daryl's heart and he wanted to believe him, so he nodded.


	2. after the call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl jokes and Paul struggles

Not even a full 3 days after the call, Daryl was making jokes, listing all the worst things he's wanted to do but never had the balls. Paul hated him for it. He never dreamed of getting mad over the whole situation, it just sort of _happened._ It started with Daryl, scoffing as he was leaning against the counter, staring at that God forsaken spot on the floor. Paul glanced at him, pausing from stirring the mixed veggies in the frying pan. "What are you thinking?" Paul looked back to the pan, turning down the heat before he burned their lunch - broccoli and carrots were supposed to help slow down the growth of cancer cells.

"Nothin'. Don't worry about it." He stumbled as he pushed himself off the counter, heading to the living room.

"Daryl, please, don't." Paul's eyes started to burn, they haven't had a proper conversation about it yet; just a whispered "we'll be okay" through tears or a joke bouncing off Daryl's lips about how he doesn't have to worry about trying to quit smoking anymore. "Just talk to me." _Why won't you talk to me?_

"I said don't worry about it." Daryl regained his balance and walked by, wrist catching in Paul's hand. Daryl looked at the soon to be widow - or would he be a widower - noticing the tears welling in his eyes. "Stop, please." The latter came out soft and topped with a pathetic crack.

"No, you stop. Stop with the jokes and just _talk_ ," Paul pulled him closer, hands on the others elbows now, holding him there.

"You're fucking making me food that's supposed to help with this," a heavy arm gestured the length of his torso, "after I soiled your favorite little room. Not just the room, I'm ruining your life." Daryl eyed the bowl of fruit on the counter. "You waste all your extra time looking at the same lists online, and grocery shopping for shit that's-" He cut himself off, shifting his weight, shaking his head. "Stop mourning me now, just let me die when I'm dead. Let's live while we still can."

"Daryl, I'm not mourning you now, I'm trying to let us live, I'm trying to be a healthier person - with you, might I add - so maybe your three months will be four, hell maybe five." He let go of Daryl's arms, taking a step back. "I'm trying - something, anything! I'm not gonna sit back and make jokes okay? I'm not gonna act like you don't have a few short, miserable months left."

"You think I'm not trying?" That was all he could muster, not wanting to fight but a pit of acid ready to jump out at Paul for the accusation in his words.

"You certainly aren't acting like it." Paul crossed his arms, taking his lip between his teeth.

"I'm sorry but I don't want to live like cancer is killing me. I want to live like I'm living, we don't have to pretend everything's okay, but I want to live." Daryl stepped forward, pulling Paul back into his chest. 

Tears soaked into his shirt, and Paul nodded. "I'm sorry, I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I'll always love you, Paul."

"You're not ruining my life either. It sucks but I'm not leaving you to go through this on your own, I would dedicate all my time to finding a way to cure this if you asked me to."

They were silent for a while, the veggies growing cold and tears running dry. Daryl's breathing scratchy and rough in this throat against Paul's ear. His hand shook as he gripped Paul's frame, he realized a while ago that the hardest part was, in fact, knowing he was leaving Paul behind. He kept going back to his original thoughts; the empty house, the bills, the cold bed. No more little moments when the sun filtered through the window in the morning, making everything glow. More thought went into the dog, however. Maybe the house wouldn't be so empty and hollow with just Paul there. The soft click of the claws on the hardwood floors could replace the harsh coughing fit that echoed off the walls and interrupted nearly every nice moment now. Paul always wanted a beagle, Shiloh hit him in a soft spot in his teen years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i add a chapter because i have no one to talk to ? yea, is this 100% a vent fic? yea, is this worse than the last chapter? yea, do i really care? yeah,, actually,,, i havent been practicing my writing at all and it really bothers me so im sorry and also might do one more chapter bc theyre really short


	3. the end of it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl knows his time is up and Paul sings him to sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rlly short but *spoiler* its just daryl throwing up and then dying

Daryl woke once again, coughing, rushing to the bathroom sink. The blood wouldn't stop coming and he realized, his month left was by far a long shot. "Pau-" more blood, "Paul!" From the bed, he heard the coughing and puking, but not the crying. The blood and tears on Daryl's face kept him frozen in the doorway, he should have known it would be worse, he always tells Paul to stay in bed. "I'm scarred." 

The coughing stopped and Paul turned the warm water on, wetting a wash cloth. A soft "I love you," left Daryl's lips as Paul washed his face for him. Nothing else was said as they went back to bed, holding each other. Paul had become numb, used to the routine - the cancer makes a progression, Daryl gets worse, they both cry and hold each other until they fall asleep. Repeat again next week. Daryl was next to nothing by now, simply a bag of bones with tumors every other inch. He kept his hair buzzed now, otherwise it would be thin and falling out anyways. Each wheeze of a breath rattled his brain and scrambled his thoughts, he couldn't remember anything anymore, anywhere he walked he needed to hold onto the wall. Paul would make them both food, but they both knew Daryl would be hunched over the toilet within the hour, puking up the few bites he had managed to get down. Laying in Paul's arms, shivering and hungry, he knew. A million words begged to jump out of his throat and he choked on every single one of them, panic stirred in his gut; Paul never got half the things they wanted to do before this time came - a bucket list with nothing crossed off but the bucket was about to fall. 

Finally, Daryl got a few words out, barely loud enough to break through the thoughts swirling in Paul's head. "Paul, will you sing me to sleep?"

"Yeah," he let out a shaky breath, wiping away his tears, "whatever you want, honey. I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry none of this makes sense im just vomiting words onto my keyboard and posting it without editing it,  
> i love you guys

**Author's Note:**

> did you like it? want to fight me? want to know what the fuck i was thinking? catch me on the tumbs @ jd-lyn  
> rlly tho let me know if you like it, i have a few other ideas id like to put somewhere other than the notepad on my phone


End file.
